La Vie: Missing Scenes
by Plesiosaur
Summary: A companion piece to La Vie En Rose. A collection of one shots and shorts set before and after the main story arc, exploring some of the scenes that were mentioned in the story and some one shot requests. Go read that first, this won't make sense otherwise. Darkness warnings from the outset, strong language, sex, violence and everything you'd expect if you've read the main story.
1. Chapter 1

**Too many one shot ideas, too many, so I decided to put them all together chronologically in one place. So here is there first part, and it comes with some serious darkness warnings (obviously, given when it must be set, right?)**

 **So don't read this if you've not read La Vie En Rose (go check out my profile/story list if you haven't) because it won't make sense, it's full of spoilers for the main story and it's only a companion piece, not a sequel or anything. Each chapter is its own little one shot, they don't necessarily follow each other except that I'm posting them mostly chronologically. And! I am totally taking prompts and requests for these series of one shots, I can't say they'll get posted immediately but I will write anything you want to see, so long as it doesn't contradict anything else I've written. Hit me up with a review/PM on here or on my shiny new Tumblr account (username pplleessiioossaauurr).**

 **Content Warning: drugs references, implied domestic violence, not very graphic het sex, violence, murder threats, graphic injury, children in pain.**

* * *

"I'm scared, Robert. He came home covered in someone else's blood last night and he's getting suspicious, every time I go out he asks where I've been and who I've been with. It's like he can smell you on me. He makes me do things I don't want to, terrible things. Please, you have to arrest him soon."

Robert Earle slid his arms around Claudia again and let her rest her lovely head against his broad chest. It was risky meeting in public like that but it wasn't too likely that anyone was looking for a former glamour model and her police officer lover hiding out in the back room of a cheap café at a funfair.

"We need to have enough solid evidence to make sure he goes away for good, darling. I promise, as soon as we can prove he ordered the hits on Marinesko and Zhukov we'll move but you know it needs to be watertight. We can't risk him wriggling out of it." he replied. It broke his heart to hear Claudia so distraught but if they rushed the investigation the whole thing would fall apart and Abadeer would walk free.

"I'm scared he's going to do something, hurt me or the children. He's taken Marshall with him someplace today and he said it wasn't any of my concern what they were doing. What is he making my sweet boy do, Robert? He's turning my beautiful son into a miniature version of himself. And Marcy found one of his bags of cocaine last week, what if she'd swallowed some? I put it back before he found her; he'd have beaten her so badly if he knew. I want that monster out of my children's lives!"

She burst into tears and he held her tighter, kissed her forehead and murmured soothingly to her. Outside in the funfair little Marcy was having a birthday treat with her eccentric uncle, she had no idea her mother was using the occasion to met her lover and pass on more information.

"Robert, please." Claudia murmured, tilting her head up to stare imploringly into his eyes. He knew what those words meant, what she was asking for. It wasn't anything to do with his role as her police handler anymore. Robert let her kiss him, slide her hands over his chest and fumble the buttons of his shirt open. When she dropped to her knees and nuzzled him through his trousers he almost went dizzy from the aching need for her.

Claudia was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman, probably the only woman he'd ever be able to love now. She was so beautiful that she lit up the room when she walked in, so fragile and vulnerable, she made him feel so strong because she _needed_ him. Distantly Robert was aware that there was probably a lot wrong with thinking of her like that, probably the militant feminist types would say that he was objectifying her. But Claudia was softness and elegance, she was feminine desire and she made him feel like so much more of a man. A few minutes later when the crucial moment overcame them both and she shuddered against him he knew it was his strength and masculinity that affected her, knew he gave her something that her cruel beast of a husband never had.

He was zipping up his flies when there was a knock on the door. The owners of the café had been quite excited to allow their room to be used for official police business and they'd been so impressed when he'd mentioned that they were now part of the Official Secrets Act. It was all bullshit of course but it was getting difficult to find time to be alone with her.

"Mum! Uncle Simon wants to go on a Ferris Wheel!" a child's voice squealed excitedly from outside. Claudia pressed one last hungry kiss onto his lips before she opened to door and caught the little girl who came running into her arms.

"That sounds wonderful, baby! Oh, who's this handsome fellow then?" she cooed, picking up her daughter and nodding to the red teddy bear she was holding.

"He's called Hambo and Uncle Simon won him for me on the crane machine! Can we go on the Ferris Wheel now, Mum? Please? Who's that?" the little girl added breathlessly, staring over her mother's shoulder at Robert.

"He's called Rob and he's one of my friends from when I used to be in pretty pictures, baby. Say hello." Claudia told her with a tense glance around at where Simon was leaning in the doorway staring at them with a disapproving expression on his face.

"Hello." Marcy said quietly. "Did you used to do pictures of my Mum?"

"Yeah, that's right kid. I used to do the pictures." Robert lied uncomfortably. The little girl looked like a perfect minute of her mother; it was weird to see Claudia's eyes staring back at him from the face of a small child when he was so used to seeing the way they rolled back into her head when she came. He shook his head; it was just something he was going to have to get used to.

"Hey Marcy, why don't you and your Mum go get some tickets for the Ferris Wheel, huh? I need to talk to her friend for a minute." Simon spoke up unexpectedly. That didn't bode well at all.

Claudia shot him a concerned look but did as her brother instructed and let her daughter tug her out of the room by the hand, still talking at a hundred miles an hour about all the rides they were going to go on together. Once they were out of sight Simon whirled on the young police officer, suddenly crackling with an icy rage.

"So you're fucking my baby sister in the back room of some dirty cheap café on her daughter's birthday now, Earle? You're just as bad as he is." the older man growled.

"Hey, it's the lady's choice. I can't help that she can't keep her hands off me. Besides she likes the feel of a real man, not the kind of limp dicked gangster scum your family throws out." It was worth it to see the impotent fury in Simon's eyes; Robert was still feeling smug and superior from getting Claudia off. She made him feel like he could have wrestled lions single handed.

But perhaps the other man's fury wasn't so impotent after all. Simon lashed out with a lightening fast left hook that was as powerful as it was unexpected, far too quick to dodge or block. Robert rolled with the punch but he tasted blood nonetheless; he remembered far too late that Simon had been an amateur middleweight boxing champion back in his younger days.

"Don't you talk about my sister that way ever again, Earle. She gets enough abuse from the scumbag she married. Looks like Claudia's type is the sort of man who treats her like a disposable sex toy, more's the pity. But I'm telling you now, boy. You ever lay a hand on her in anger, you ever even raise your voice to her or disrespect her again in any way and you'll have me to deal with. And I have spent a lot of years carefully cultivating a non-threatening image; bumbling academic and harmless sweet uncle. You cross me, hurt my family, you'll find out how much of that harmless image is just for show. Never forget that I grew up in the family every bit as much as men like Hunson Abadeer did."

Simon looked him over coldly before he leaned in and growled right into Robert's face;

"I know more than one place to dispose of a body, Earle. I chose the academic life but if you give me a single good reason I'll gladly go back to being a gangster for just the one night. You remember that, and remember I'll be watching you. You understand me?"

Robert nodded slowly, yeah he understood perfectly. Simon nodded back coldly then he turned and strode from the room after his sister and niece leaving Robert to stare after him and massage his aching jaw. Perhaps it would be worth adding Simon to the investigation, he thought for a moment. But he dismissed that idea immediately; as annoying and unexpectedly threatening as the older man was Robert needed all the allies he could get inside the family if he was going to end them for good. And so long as he played nice and treated Claudia like the princess she was they wouldn't have any more problems. He could do that; he'd been intending to from the very start.

...

Detective Inspector Robert Earle had plenty of time to think back over that last encounter with Simon the night he stood watch by Marceline's hospital bed four months later. They had her on a morphine drip, as much as her tiny body could handle, but she still whimpered in her sleep from the agony of her burns. It was a long ragged char that stretched from the side of her neck all the way down to the top of her hips; red and blistered in places, white and waxy where the burns were worse. There were one or two spots where they'd taken whole sections of her skin away because it had been completely destroyed, all the way through to the meat underneath. The doctors were trying to decide where was best to take a skin graft from to repair those places; probably the undamaged parts of her upper arms and shoulders. She'd never look the same again, Earle knew. Abadeer had forever destroyed his daughter's chances of growing into a miniature Claudia.

DCI Garda had gone to the morgue with Bolshakov to identify the bodies. As much as it grated to work with the crooked lawyer he was the only family member that they could contact that night. Abadeer was still missing but every able bodied officer in the Greater London area was out looking for him. Not Earle, though. Earle was standing guard by little Marcy's bed and while his face was every bit as professional and impassive as anyone could expect on the inside he was shredding himself to pieces. Claudia was dead. Her son was dead too, and her sister in law. But Claudia was the one Abadeer had been after. Earle thought hazily through the numb ache of loss and horror still filling him that he might ask Simon about those places where a body could be safely hidden, that men like Hunson Abadeer didn't deserve to face justice. He deserved nothing more than the coldest, cruellest revenge. Something much more primal and primitive than Earle's civilized sense of justice or morals was howling inside his head like a caged beast. For the first time in his life Earle understood what could drive a man to torture another human being to death in cold blood. Perhaps he'd never understood hatred until that night; or the soul deep grief of losing someone he had been hopelessly in love with. Knowing that her last moments must have been spent in crippling agony and terror, that all his promises to her had been broken in the most horrifying ways.

And there was still Marceline. She was innocent, fragile, every bit as helpless as her mother had been. And she was half of his Claudia; for a moment Earle let his hand reach out and gently touch the silk of her hair. It was identical to her mother's. Every bit as soft and whisper fine as Claudia's magnificent mane had been; whoever her future lovers would be they'd no doubt find just as much hypnotic amazement in sliding their fingers through that hair as he had with Claudia.

But she was half of Abadeer too. Half her father's daughter, half tainted by his blood. Her tiny face twisted in pain again and she cried out in her sleep and Earle felt an entirely different impulse spread through him. Half Abadeer, and what could hurt the father more than the loss of his entire line? It would be the work of a moment to open the feed on the drip much wider and flood her fragile body with a lethal dose of morphine. It might even be a kindness, let her drift away in a medicated sleep and never know that Earle had let them all down, had let her beloved mother burn.

"Robert?"

He turned reluctantly. DCI Garda was staring at him from the doorway.

"Robert, you look exhausted. You shift finished four hours ago, why are you still here? Go home and sleep, take tomorrow off. The nurses said she won't wake up until tomorrow anyway and you'll need to wait for the specialist social workers to arrive before you can interview her. I know how much this case means to you but there's nothing else to be done tonight."

It ached to hear anyone call him by his given name; that was what Claudia had called him. And how could Earle explain that he'd been wondering if the kindest thing to do for little Marceline was to mercy kill her? He just shook his head and slouched from the room. Earle had no idea how he made it home, he was too numb. But he found himself lying on his bed in his small apartment staring at the ceiling with a bottle of whiskey in his hands. He'd take the next day off but they couldn't stop him going back to the hospital.

….

Agony like she'd never known was what brought her around and Marceline woke with a sharp cry. Nurses she didn't recognise fussed around her and she was in a strange white room with Winnie The Pooh murals on the walls and lots of weird looking equipment next to the big bed they'd put her in. And oh God, there was a tube going into her hand, the _horror_ , something was going into her and she tried to pull it out but the nurses grabbed her hands to stop her and she screamed again-

"It's ok, darling. I'm right here."

Uncle Simon was sitting by her bed, but when she looked at him his arms were bandaged right from the middle of his biceps to the tips of his fingers.

"S-simon!" she sobbed, reaching out for him. He came and crouched by her face, letting her wrap her hands comfortingly in his shaggy greying hair. "Where's Mum?"

Simon's face was shining with tears; Marcy tried to think but she didn't know if she'd ever seen him cry before.

"I'm so sorry, darling. Your Mum got too badly hurt in the fire and she went up to heaven to live with the angels. She didn't want to be lonely so Marshall and Betty went too. But I'm here, and I'm not going away, ok? I'm here for you."

She hadn't really understood what he was talking about, still drowsy and confused from the pain medication. So instead of grieving for her family the next words out of Marcy's mouth were;

"Is Hambo here?"

"Yeah darling, I brought your special teddy. He's right there in the bed with you, he was keeping you safe all night. The nurses are gonna give you something for the pain and you're gonna go back to sleep, you weren't supposed to wake up yet. But I'll be here when you wake, ok?"

She nodded; it was already beginning to get too hard to keep her eyes open. And when she did wake it was dark again and Simon was there in the chair by her bed like he'd promised, fast asleep. But he wasn't alone.

"Hello Pumpkin." Daddy said quietly. "I need you to be real quiet, ok? We're gonna go away together, just you and me. I've got something for your pain, it's gonna make it all better. Much better than the doctors can give you, alright? It's a special kinda medicine, you gotta sniff it up through your nose."

He held out a piece of card with a thin white line of powder on it and she shrunk away instinctively. Daddy's eyes looked scary, too big and weird like the time she'd accidentally found him taking his grown up medicine in the kitchen. That medicine was just for grown ups and she wasn't supposed to take it, he'd told her so many times. So she shook her head and tried to back away from him into the pillows, He frowned and shoved the card under her nose and without thinking about it she shoved it away, spilling the powder in his face and making him explode with rage.

"YOU FUCKING LITTLE-"

But whatever he'd been about to call her was cut off with a crunch. Simon was awake, Simon was sobbing around the pain of punching Daddy as hard as he could in the side of the head with his damaged hands. And then the door of the room burst open and the police man was there, dragging Daddy to his feet and screaming at him.

"Hunson Fucking Abadeer, I am arresting you on suspicion of arson and murder, you do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. You fucking piece of shit."

And that was the last time Marceline saw her father for fifteen years. It was the last time she spoke a word directly to anyone for five months and the last time she saw her mother's lover before she was sitting across from him in an interview room telling him she wanted to turn informant. Not that she recognised Earle that day or even really remembered it much. It all felt like some distant medicated dream, like so many of her other weird dreams in the hospital. Simon remembered it though, and Earle remembered. When Hunson stood up in court to confirm his name and address a couple of months later one of the crimes he was found guilty of was attempting to deliver a controlled substance to a minor. Before he built a safe reputation for himself in prison he took a knife to the stomach from an inmate whose daughter had died of a drugs overdose, he almost bled to death in his first week there. Even the other hardened rapists and murderers wouldn't tolerate a child abuser.

….

"Ein Apfel."

"Very good honey, and this one?"

"Eine Kartoffel."

"Excellent. This one?"

"Um…"

"It's a pear, honey. What do you call a pear in German?"

"Traube?"

"No sweetie, eine Traube is a grape. It's eine Birne."

Bonnie nodded and stared harder at the flash cards. She was going to be the very best German speaker ever and then she'd make lots of German friends at her new school. She hoped they'd be nicer than the kids at her English school, they just called her a ginger teacher's pet and one of them had thrown her favourite scarf in the toilet. She hated those kids with all the intensity a six year old could.

"What do you want for lunch, honey?" her Mum asked. Bonnie thought for a second.

"Pasta!" she yelled, excited. Bonnie didn't like pasta so much but it was her little brother's favourite and she liked hearing him make happy noises when he ate.

"In German?"

"Umm… die Nudeln!"

"Excellent! I'll go get it started, you keep an eye on your brother."

Neddy was sitting in his corner with his back turned drawing. Bonnie crept over to him and sat by his side, looking at the scribbling he'd spent all morning on.

"These are really good. You're such a good boy." she told him supportively. Ned didn't appear to have heard her, he was busy drawing pink circles. Sheet after sheet of paper were covered in them, just pink circles as neat as he could make them. Each one had a smaller darker pink circle in the middle. Bonnie stared harder at it and felt her face heat up with an embarrassed giggle.

"Neddy, are you drawing _boobies?"_ she asked him around her delighted six year old's horror. He giggled and shot her a look out of the corner of his eye.

"That's really naughty, Neddy! If Mum finds out she'll be cross!" Bonnie gasped. "But I won't tell. I'll tell her they're pink oranges, ok?"

He gurgled happily in reply and drew a much bigger pink circle and then another and held it out proudly for his sister.

"Oh, are these ones for me? Because I'm a girl and girls have boobies. That's so rude, Neddy!"

But Bonnie took the drawing anyway and folded it into the pocket of her little pink dungarees. Even if it was rude and very naughty and Mum would be really cross about it she was always happy when Neddy drew things for her. He put down his pens and reached out to pet her hair. Bonnie slid onto the floor so he could reach more easily and let him stroke her pigtails.

"We're going away to Germany soon, Neddy." she told him conversationally. "Dad has a new job working on the airplanes and I'm learning to speak German. But you're coming too. Mum says there's a nice special school you can go to and the teachers there speak English too so you'll be able to understand them. And I'm going to a new school and I hope they have lots of nice kids who like reading stories. I'm going to take all my books and learn how to translate them into German and read them for the German kids so they can listen to English stories too. Do you think they know about Pippi Longstocking in Germany?"

Ned gurgled again and Bonnie smiled, understanding every word he'd never learned to say.

"I'm glad you're my best friend too, Neddy." she replied happily.


	2. Chapter 2

**Night shift is going particularly slowly tonight and I had a lot of time to write. So here's another missing scene, just because. Realism time! I've written Mumbai as I remember it from the last time I was there, but that was way back in 2007 before the Mumbai bombings so things may be a little different now. Also my German is a little rusty so if the grammar isn't perfect please forgive me; it's my third language so sometimes the word order gets a little confused in my head.**

 **And there's gonna be someone you should recognise in this chapter too, in fact two someones. Many hugs and love to the people who have reviewed already, you guys are amazing!**

 **Content Warning: significantly less dark than the previous chapter but still not all that happy. Grief, recovery, domestic tension.**

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Another letter addressed to Marceline arrived from the prison service that morning. Simon scowled and tucked it clumsily into the pocket of his cardigan like he always did, hidden from curious young eyes. He'd read it later and probably make himself so mad he'd wish for a punch bag, anything to work his empty rage out on. But it would have to be later. Marcy was waiting for her breakfast and he didn't have time to be furious when there was a small mouth to feed.

With long practice he ignored the aching pain in his hands when he grasped the milk carton and slopped some clumsily onto her cereal before he went to knock on her bedroom door. She was already awake, like always, just lying in bed waiting for him.

"Good morning my little sunbeam, your breakfast is ready." Simon smiled to her. Marcy smiled back but made no move to get out of bed. He sighed internally; looked like today was going to be one of her frequent bad days. "Marcy? Come on darling, you gotta get up."

She just shook her head and hugged her teddy bear tighter. A really bad day, then.

"Hambo, why doesn't Marcy wanna get up? Isn't she hungry?" he asked the bear instead. The first few times Simon had felt stupid talking to his niece's teddy bear, but he'd gotten over that pretty quickly when it became obvious it was the only way she'd communicate with him when she was upset.

"She had a really scary dream and she's too afraid." Marcy whispered back in Hambo's voice.

"Oh darling, why didn't you come wake me? I promise I'll never ever be mad if you wake me in the night. Do you wanna hug?"

She just stared at him with big hurt eyes and it was so hard to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"Hambo, does Marcy wanna hug?"

The teddy bear nodded and Simon perched on the side of her bed, letting her sit up and slide her small arms around his neck in her own time. He was very careful not to put too much pressure on her back when he hugged her, her latest round of surgery had only been a month ago and she was still nervous of being touched. One of her grafts had got infected and been terribly painful until they'd managed to convince her to take her antibiotics.

"Uncle Simon, what's heaven like?" she whispered in his ear, almost too quietly for him to hear. It was their ritual when she woke from a nightmare about her mother and brother. They talked about heaven and how much fun it must be.

"Heaven's the best, darling! The streets are made from chocolate and it rains marshmallows! And instead of stairs they've got slides and water parks and everyone has a pet unicorn. There are very kind angels there too who help people who are scared or sad, they make them feel all better."

"Like Marshall."

"Yeah, like your brother. He was probably scared and sad when he first went to heaven but I bet he's really happy now. He's probably looking down at you and wishing he could send an angel to earth to make you happy, too. Do you know something?"

"Yeah. People we love don't really go away when they die, they always stay in our hearts." she mumbled back. He'd told her it so often over the last year that she could have recited it in her sleep.

"That's right, darling. Now, I was gonna save this until after breakfast but I think my special little sunbeam would like to see it now. I've got a surprise for you, darling. Do you wanna read something for me?"

He pulled something out of his pocket and it wasn't the letter from the prison, it was something a million times better. The anniversary of their family's death was coming up and Simon just couldn't bear to be home for it. No, he was taking his niece away someplace they could lose themselves for a while.

"What does that word say right there, darling? Spell it out."

"I-n-d-i-a. What's that mean, Uncle Simon?" she asked him with big eyes. She was holding the plane tickets carefully, like they were something magical. Marcy had never been on a plane before and so far as he could tell she'd never had a proper holiday anywhere; Hunson wouldn't have left the business for so much as a weekend away and the thought of his sister being allowed to take the children anywhere alone was just laughable. So he'd negotiated with the university, argued that it was important for his niece's recovery, and they'd granted him a month's sabbatical. He'd booked the tickets that same afternoon while Marcy had been in one of her regular therapy sessions.

"It's a country, darling. A country full of people who look a lot like you, it's where your biological grandmother came from. And we're gonna go on the plane there, tomorrow. We're gonna pack a bag and go away, just you and me and Hambo. I've got such a fun trip planned for us! We're gonna go on the trains overnight, and we're gonna go see all the beautiful palaces and explore ruins and have adventures. Do you wanna come to India with your old uncle and have an adventure? There'll be monkeys and elephants and special pistachio ice cream."

Marcy was grinning now, whatever horrors her sleeping mind had tormented her with were completely forgotten in her excitement. Simon vowed to himself there and then that he was going to take her all over the world, take her to see every possible thing he could. Because his little sunbeam deserved to see the whole world and he'd have done literally anything if it would make her smile.

...

"Simon, it's too hot here. Hambo doesn't like it; it makes his poorly skin feel itchy."

He hadn't thought of that, cursed himself for a fool because of course it was hot, it was _India_ , and Marcy was so sensitive to the heat. For a moment Simon panicked, but then his brilliant mind kicked in with an observation; _Betty was sensitive to the heat too, remember? If she forgot her thyroxin she couldn't go out at all without her parasol._

Parasol, of course! Betty had been a redhead, she'd burned easily and because of her thyroid condition she couldn't handle the heat so well. So instead of a sunhat she'd used a parasol and fan when they'd travelled.

"We'll stay in the hotel with the air conditioning on for today darling, and when it's dark and cool we'll go out then. There's something I'm gonna get for you to make it better, ok?"

She nodded and let him take her hand, lead her back inside their palatial hotel and back up to their suite. They spent the afternoon watching old Bollywood movies on the huge TV and trying a dizzying array of exotic foods Simon ordered from the kitchen, things Marcy had never even heard of before but instantly loved. She was especially taken with mango lassi and dal fry. By the end of the afternoon her face was crusted with bits of dried lentil paste and every surface in the lounge was covered in empty lassi glasses.

As the sun began to sink behind the horizon Simon picked up their hotel phone and dialled a number from memory; one of his old friends that he knew was in the city on an extended placement with the university. The line dialled out for a long time but eventually a weak voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Daniel? You old fruit, you're still around!"

"Simon! Well this is a lovely surprise. I won't lie, I heard terrible rumours."

"And all of them true I'm afraid. I have a favour to ask. Do you remember Betty's luggage?"

His friend laughed down the crackly line.

"Remember? I still have her hot weather gear in the back of my office! Oh that woman knew how to travel in style, Simon! I was so sorry to hear about the fire, so sorry my old friend."

"I'd rather not speak of it, if that's all the same. But you still have her parasol?"

"Of course, I understand completely. Yes, I'm looking at it right now."

"Can you bring it and meet me by the Gateway at eight? There's someone I'd like to introduce you to."

"Of course. I'll see you there at eight, will we go to dinner? Leopold's or the Taj Palace?"

"Dinner sounds wonderful. We'll let my travelling companion decide on the restaurant, she's quite the young gourmet." Simon replied with a fond smile across to where Marcy was blowing bubbles through her straw into her lassi glass. She grinned back and a half dry lentil fell from her cheek onto the floor as he hung up the line.

Simon was glad Daniel was still around; they'd known each other a long time and it was surprisingly good to be back to travelling, meeting his contacts. Since the fire Simon had been on light duties only, he'd not even thought about going on any extended digs or site visits because Marcy had needed to be so close to the hospital all the time. But she was so much better now, talking again and no longer in constant pain. Perhaps she'd like to come travelling as his assistant.

"Uncle Simon, who were you talking to?"

"An old friend, darling. We're gonna go meet him for dinner tonight, he's got something for you." Simon replied soothingly. "So what did I miss in the movie?"

"Oh! They made the monkey statue mad and now he came to life and he's going to fight the demon king!"

"The monkey god is called Hanuman, darling."

They finished the end of the movie with Simon narrating the abridged version of the Ramayana epic to her and then made their way from the hotel down to the glitzy waterfront in downtown Mumbai through the thick crowds and balmy evening air. Marcy clung tight to Simon's hand, staring around at all the brightly dressed people and unfamiliar sights. Everything was so colourful, and there was just so much _everything_. So many new sights and noises and smells. The night was alive with movement and sound and energy; it was almost overwhelming. But it was exciting too, and as long as she had her uncle by her side little Marcy felt brave. As they wove through the crowds Marcy felt herself smiling; there were other kids with shiny black hair just like hers and darker skin than Simon or her Daddy had, kids who looked more like her and how her Mum had looked. Of course she'd seen people who looked like her in London too but never so many all at once. And sometimes when she went places with Simon she felt curious eyes on her. Sometimes she knew that people were wondering why she looked so different from him, why she was a different colour and had a different kind of hair. But here it was Simon that people looked at from the corners of their eyes; it was a strange but nice feeling not to feel a little out of place. They finally stopped in front of a huge archway made of carved white stone that looked a lot like the Marble Arch at home in London. Marcy gazed up at it, amazed. Close up it was so tall it made her a little dizzy to look at the top.

"This is called the Gateway of India, darling. It was built in the early twentieth century to commemorate King George V coming to visit." Simon told her when he saw how she was staring up at it.

"It's really big."

"It sure is, darling. The king thought he was very important."

Marcy nodded thoughtfully and continued to stare up at the monument but Simon looked around at a voice calling his name. There was Daniel, puffing towards them through the crowds and looking just as eccentric as ever.

"Simon! There you are old man! I was beginning to think I'd missed you."

"Daniel." Simon smiled, grasping his hand as tightly as his scars would allow.

"Oh Simon, your hands!" Daniel gasped, looking down.

"Just scars, they're healed now. Not important." Simon replied, brushing him off carefully. Marcy was watching him intently; perhaps if her uncle had known that she was learning from watching him how to explain her scarring to people he might have been a little less casual in downplaying his injury.

"And who is your friend?" Daniel asked, smiling down at Marcy. She slid a little further behind Simon shyly and grabbed his hand again.

"I'm Marceline." she mumbled quietly when the tall man crouched down to her level. He was dressed in a light linen suit and had floppy dark grey hair held back from his kind eyes with a thin headband. Marcy thought his face was very pink but it was probably just sunburn.

"Very nice to meet you, Marceline. I'm Dr O'Bracker, but you can call me Daniel."

She giggled a little.

"Your name is funny. It sounds like Abracadabra."

"It sure does. Because, abracadabra! Magic, I brought you a parasol."

He pulled it out from behind his back with a grin and Simon suffered an unexpected stab of grief at the sight of it. The last time he'd seen that parasol Betty had been packing it into a trunk in Daniel's office and telling him they'd be back for it in the winter season. But she'd never come back, it was the last place they'd ever travelled together.

"Oh, it's so pretty!" Marcy gasped, accepting it carefully like she was handling a baby bird. And it was pretty, all lilac silk and fine embroidery. Simon had bought it in a winding bazaar in Morocco for his new wife on their honeymoon; it had been all over the world with them and Betty would have wanted Marceline to have it. He wiped the traitorous tear from the corner of his eye while his friend and niece were busy exclaiming over the parasol.

"Marcy, darling, you see that big palace over there?" Simon asked instead, pointing behind them to the huge glittering Taj Mahal Palace Hotel across the street, all lit up like a fairy tale. "Do you wanna go and have dinner there, like a princess?"

She nodded, eyes wide, and after a whole year of living with Simon it was second nature to her to hold her hand up for him to take while they crossed the street with her beautiful new parasol folded carefully across her other arm. Simon shared a wan smile with Daniel over her small head; he was so glad they'd come back to India.

...

"Hallo. Mein Name ist James."

Bonnie looked up from her book to find that a bigger boy had flopped down on the grass of the school field next to her and was peering curiously at her with a friendly smile.

"Um, Hallo James. Ich bin Bonnie." she replied carefully. Bigger boys coming to talk to her wasn't something she was used to and it made her a little nervous.

"Otto sagte, du Englisch sind." the boy continued, nodding to her book. It was Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, the English version because sometimes she just got a bit homesick and wanted to read something without having to look up the occasional harder word.

"Ja, ich bin Englisch." she agreed with a nod.

"Cool! I talk English!" the boy told her, grinning. "Meine Mutti is from England and she teached me!"

"Taught." Bonnie corrected him. "Would you like some candy?"

"Danke." he smiled shyly, accepting a sticky handful from the bag of Gummibärchen she handed him.

And that was how Bonnie made her first really close friend in Germany. James was a year older than her but he often asked her for help with his classes, especially science and math. And he was funny and energetic and he didn't think she was weird for reading so much, in fact he thought it was amazing and he wanted to borrow her books and try to work out the English words. He didn't even say anything mean about Neddy when he came over to their house and all her brother wanted to do was try to stand upside down in the corner and then draw picture after picture of cats. He drew a ginger cat and gave it to James before the older boy went home, eyes downcast and gurgling anxiously as he handed it over.

"Thank you. I will put it in my Schlafzimmer." James told him.

"That means bedroom, Neddy." Bonnie translated for him. Ned gurgled and sat down on the floor, losing interest in them both completely when he noticed he wasn't wearing socks and he could wiggle his toes like little pink jelly beans.

But the best thing about James was his mother. She was an older woman, maybe ten years older than Bonnie's own mother, and she loved to read and discuss books with her son's smart English friend. And she had lovely dark brown eyes and a smile that was prettier than anything Bonnie had ever seen. The little girl was only eight years old, she had no idea what the word 'crush' even meant. But she definitely had one.

...

Sometimes when she couldn't sleep Bonnie liked to sit behind the curtain in the little window seat by her parents' bedroom and listen to them talk while she read her books. And that night she couldn't sleep because when she'd come home from James' house after having dinner with his family his beautiful mother had kissed her on the cheek and now her whole head was spinning.

"Neddy's teachers are very impressed with his art. They said he might have a real gift." her mother started.

"Mhm."

"And he's settling in really well. He drew me a picture of Frau Benz."

"Uhuh."

"Thomas, are you even listening to me?"

"For God's sakes, yes, the kid likes to bloody draw. Tell me something I didn't already know."

"Do you even mean that? Or are you just being a sarcastic prick like usual? Fine, something you didn't know? I think our Bonnibel had a crush on her friend James' mother."

"Now you're just being ridiculous, Sandra. She's eight years old! And her best friend is a boy; no doubt they'll be having inappropriate teenage groping the moment our backs are turned long before she's legally old enough to give consent."

Bonnie frowned. She didn't like the tone of voice her father was using to talk about her, even if she didn't really understand what he was saying.

"Or possibly she's not completely straight. Do you even know the statistics? One in ten people are gay. Have you got any idea how hard it must be for her growing up different when everyone expects her to be one thing and she identifies as another?"

"Sandra, she's _eight_. Her sexual preference is Sesame Street and gummy bears! What kind of expectations could anyone even be putting on her at that age?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe assuming that she'll grow up to get inappropriately groped by every male friend she has?"

"Not a reflection on our daughter, just on the libidos of teenage boys. Speaking of libidos-"

"I swear to God, Thomas, if you don't get your hand off my breast right now I am going to go sleep in the lounge."

Bonnie held her breath in fear a moment later when she heard her father slouch across the hall to the bathroom and close the door, muttering angrily under his breath to himself. She didn't want to be discovered out of bed and listening to their conversation. A moment later she heard the shower turn on.

"I hope you block the drains, you prick." her mother muttered from the bedroom. Then she switched the bedroom light off and the hall was plunged into darkness, too.

Bonnie would have crept back to her own bedroom but she would have to go past the door to the bathroom to do that and her Dad was taking ages in the shower. So instead she slipped noiselessly into the bedroom next door to her parents' room.

"Hey Neddy." she said quietly, sliding into his bed with him and hugging him when he sleepily gurgled at her. "Mum and Dad had a fight again and Dad's in the shower. Can I come sleep in here?"

He'd already wound his hands into her hair and was snuggling up against her. Bonnie knew instinctively that things weren't right with her parents, hadn't been right since her brother was three years old and the doctors confirmed what they'd known all along; Neddy was autistic and he probably wouldn't ever learn to speak or anything. He hadn't been properly toilet trained until he was six and the only things he ever wanted to do were experimenting with what his body could do and drawing things. So he did handstands and wiggled his toes and drew the same things over and over; cats and loaves of bread and sailboats and one memorable time hundreds of penises when he'd discovered that he looked different from his female relatives with his clothes off. And their father worked longer and longer hours and their mother never smiled when he came home anymore. Then one night he'd turned up much later than usual smelling like beer and they'd stayed up until very late yelling at each other while Bonnie hugged Neddy in his bedroom and tried to calm his tantrum because he hated the noise. After that her father had announced he'd gotten a new job and they were moving to Germany for a better life. Bonnie liked Germany better than England though, everyone was nicer and her father was away more than ever so her mother seemed happier. Bonnie drifted off to sleep feeling calmer than she had all evening. She always felt better when she was with her brother.

"Bonnie! Bonnibel! Where are you? Oh Jesus, Thomas, call the police! Her bed's empty, she's gone!"

It was her mother's terrified yell that woke her the next morning. After a few minutes of frowning at the ceiling trying to work out what was happening she came stumbling out of Neddy's room confused and rubbing her eyes.

"I'm here, Mum."

Her mother turned and immediately swept her into a tight hug with a cry.

"Ja, meine Tochter, sie ist acht Jahre alt. Oh! Macht nichts, sie ist hier! Es war ein falscher Alarm. Ja, es tut mir leid."

Her father hung up the phone and turned to her with a scowl on his face.

"Where the hell were you? Bon, we were scared someone had taken you! Never run off in the night like that again!"

"I just went to Neddy's room last night because I couldn't sleep." she told him, lower lip trembling dangerously because she hated getting yelled at.

"We were so worried! You can't just go wandering around at night!" he continued in a loud, angry voice.

"Thomas, stop it, you're upsetting her. She didn't do it deliberately." her mother cut in with a scowl, hugging Bonnie tighter to herself.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Bonnie whispered around the tears that were beginning to brim in her eyes.

"Hey, come on now, don't cry." he relented, bending down and throwing his arms wide. She came stumbling towards him and he hugged her tightly too. "Shhh, sweetie don't cry, I just got angry because I was scared. I didn't want anything bad to have happened to you, because I love you. Ok? So how about we have breakfast and you and me can go to the park. Does that sound fun? We can see if James wants to come too, and let your Mum get on with the housework in peace."

Mum was scowling at her Dad but Bonnie nodded anyway, she didn't want to be in the house if they were going to fight again. And James would probably want to come to the park and they could play football and make daisy chains and she'd see if Dad would buy some gummy bears to bring home and share with Neddy. He carried her downstairs and into the kitchen to make breakfast, leaving her mother to comfort a wailing Neddy because all the yelling had upset him again. If she'd been just a little older Bonnie would have stayed and helped her mother, but she was just eight years old and she had no idea why going to the park with her Dad was less about her having fun and more about her parents' marriage slowly crumbling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well it's been a while, I thought perhaps you'd like another missing scene? I wrote this a while ago fully intending to write another scene between this one and the last. But all you really need to know is that about five years have passed and Bonnie's family have moved back to England again.**

 **More minor characters! I needed someone obnoxious so have a Donny. Also the eagle eyed amongst you might have noticed Abracadaniel in the last chapter, he's surprisingly fun to write. I will keep adding to this story as the mood takes me, it's nice not to have any deadlines for it even if they are all self-imposed. (Tiny edit, there's a pre-transition Finn in here still using female pronouns etc. He's just not figured out how he identifies yet).**

 **Content warning: minor violence, homophobia, feels.**

* * *

Going out to meet up with a friend for coffee was an awfully grown up thing to do all by herself and Marceline was almost bouncing with thirteen year old enthusiasm when she pushed open the door of the little café they'd agreed to meet in. But as she looked around she felt her smile fade; Ash wasn't there yet but that annoying kid Donny from her geography class and his troupe of stupid friends were. Marceline naively thought for a moment that perhaps he hadn't seen her but as she was sliding into a booth at the back of the room with her soy latte a loud voice interrupted her. She sighed to herself and avoided his gaze; Donny had been absolutely the worst all year.

"Well if it isn't pretty little Freakshow Abadeer! What you drinking there, freaky freak? Do they make scarred freak lattes here? Aren't you scared it's gonna burn your pretty face off and then you'll look like a weird burned freak from the front as well as the back? Hey, I'm talking to you, Freakshow!"

She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore him but Donny continued grinning at her and wouldn't go away, he was advancing threateningly on her table and his friends were staring at them and sniggering into their hands. Marcy could feel the eyes of every patron in the coffee shop trained on her, even worse because the people to her left could probably see her scars protruding from the top of her school blazer and stretching halfway up her neck. Simon always told her that she was only as well mannered as the length of her temper and she had to keep calm even when other people were being stupid. So she ignored Donny and sipped her drink and stared past him, desperately hoping Ash would arrive and give her an excuse to get away from the pack of sniggering boys. Of course then Donny took it way too far because he'd always been an obnoxious little prick and she was well aware that he didn't know how to handle his awkward thirteen year old crush on her. Donny had pulled out a fancy zippo lighter and flicked it open right in front of her face. There was a flare of fire right under her nose and Marcy lost it all at once. She couldn't have even explained later how she went from reeling back in her seat and shrinking away in instinctive fear from the flame to rolling around the floor trying to punch and scratch Donny's face.

By the time the harassed barrista was pulling her off him they were both bruised and screaming.

"Out! All you kids, anyone in a school uniform! Out! You're all barred!" the man yelled, shoving Donny and Marceline towards the door and turning to round up Donny's friends too. Outside on the dusky pavement Donny turned to her with a split lip and blood trickling slowly from the corner of his mouth.

"I'm gonna get you for this, Freakshow. Don't think I won't. My Dad's gonna come beat you up and if your stupid old weird uncle tries to stop him my Dad'll make him lie down in the street and bite the kerb stone and stamp on the back of his head. My dad's gonna kill you both." Donny snarled in her face. Marceline didn't reply; there was a tall figure advancing on Donny's turned back and next thing a strong hand was hauling the younger boy off his feet and into the air by the back of his collar. Donny let out a weirdly strangled little scream of terror before the taller boy turned him until they were nose to nose, still dangling from his fist like a naughty kitten caught by its scruff.

"If you ever threaten my godfather or my friend again I will put your name on the organ donor register myself, posthumously. That means after you're dead. And then your precious father will have the comfort of knowing that at least little bits of his poor murdered son live on in about ten or twelve different people. You got me?"

Ash had finally arrived. Donny looked like he was going to piss himself; Ash was almost fifteen already, tall and muscular for his age. He was dressed intimidatingly punk with a floppy blonde mohawk and heavily studded leather biker jacket. He worked out every night and had been attending karate lessons since he was eight; Ash already had a physique all the girls at their school drooled over. Next to Ash Donny looked like one of those fat little puppies they used in toilet paper commercials. He whimpered in reply and flailed his arms pathetically.

"Good. Now run home and wash the blood off your face. You don't want your Dad to know you got your ass kicked by a little girl, right?"

Ash put the smaller boy down with the slow deliberate care of someone very strong being very gentle against their better judgement and Donny scurried off down the street after his friends the moment his feet touched the ground. Ash turned to Marcy and frowned at her messed up face, coming forwards to fold her into a protective hug.

"You didn't have to rescue me, I hit him back. I coulda taken him." she muttered, avoiding his eyes when he let go of her. Ash frowned at her some more and pulled a tissue out of his pocket, wiping a fleck of blood away her swollen cheek gently.

"Marcy, he weighed at least twice as much as you do. He was going to grind you into a meat paste. Why do you always have to get into fights, huh? Come on short stuff, we'll get you cleaned up at my place. Can't send you home to Simon with blood on your shirt." Ash replied with a sigh.

Marceline glowered up at him but Ash was right, Simon would be upset enough when she came home with a black eye. She followed Ash down the street away from the café and they caught the bus back to his Mum's house together.

In Ash's bedroom later while his mother put her blazer into the washing machine she sighed out of the window.

"I hate boys." Marcy told Ash conversationally. "Why do they have to be so stupid all the time? Why do boys always have to start being idiots just because I'm pretty? I know I'm pretty, my Mum was pretty too. But it doesn't matter, being pretty isn't the most important thing anyway. I'd rather be smart."

"You're both." Ash told her, looking up from the French homework he was checking over for her.

"So're you." Marcy giggled in reply. He stuck his tongue out.

"I think a lot of boys don't want to be told they're pretty. I think they're worried it'll make them sound gay." Ash said in a neutral tone, staring down at the textbook. "But I don't mind, I quite like being told I'm pretty."

"Haha, you're gay!" Marcy grinned back at him. Instead of denying it or laughing or anything Ash just shrugged and nodded shyly, avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah actually, I think so. I don't really like girls. Like... I think you're really pretty, right? In the same way I think flowers are really pretty, but I don't want to kiss a flower. But I just really like the way boys smell and I like the way they look and I've never wanted to reach out and touch a girl like I have with boys. So yeah, I think I am gay. But that's alright, isn't it? You're still my friend?"

Instead of answering right away Marcy stood up and came over to where Ash was staring down at her book. She hugged him and pressed a kiss onto his cheek.

"Of course I'm still your friend! I don't care who you fancy. I just don't understand why you'd like boys though, they're so icky." she replied.

"Huh, sounds like someone might be a bit gay too. Y'know, if you think boys are sooooo gross." Ash replied with a smile, leaning into the hug. Marcy shrugged, she'd never really stopped to think about it.

"I dunno, maybe? Girls are really nice. But gay people are kinda weird. I mean, not you! Maybe I like boys and girls. I dunno, I don't really like anyone right now."

"You don't have to work it out all at once, you know that right? But if you're still up for coming with me to my granddad's party next month that'd be awesome. You know how the family are." Ash mumbled.

Marcy made a face, yeah she knew how the family were about gay people. And Grandadddy Bolshakov was an old fashioned Russian man, he'd been so thrilled when Ash had told him Marcy was coming as his date to the party because she was from a good Russian family and was pretty enough as well. Marcy shivered, remembering when she'd been very little and she'd walked in on her father scrubbing a lot of blood out of the sleeves of his favourite shirt. He'd told her to come into the bathroom and shut the door, then he'd shoved the shirt under her nose and ordered her to stare at the blood.

" _This is the blood of a filthy queer, baby girl. They're against God and nature, they don't deserve to walk around breathing our clean air. They're perverts and freaks, paedophiles. The worst kind of scum, they're not even properly human. Any queers come near you, what are you gonna do?"_

 _"I dunno, Daddy."_

 _"You're gonna hit them until they bleed, until they scream. You're a good family girl, Marceline. The family don't hold with that kind of filth. So what do we do to queers?"_

 _"Hit them till they bleed."_

 _"That's Daddy's good girl."_

Hunson had said the same thing repeatedly throughout her early childhood and Marcy had believed him, why wouldn't she? One day when she'd been nine Simon had introduced her to one of his work colleagues and his boyfriend Marcy had innocently asked them if they were paedophiles and scum. Simon had given her a very long and unusually serious lecture about why her father had been dead wrong and why his opinions were utterly disgusting. She believed every single word out of Simon's mouth but still couldn't quite shake the feeling that maybe there was something a bit dirty about her. Because sometimes when girls smiled at her she felt all wriggly and nervous in her stomach and she really wasn't ready to think about what that might mean. She hugged Ash tighter, no way was he a pervert or a freak. He was her friend and he was one of the nicest boys she knew. So if he was gay then her Dad must have been wrong like Simon had said. Perhaps he hadn't known that gay people could be nice, too. But nobody was going to hit Ash until he bled, not when she was there to protect him.

That night after Ash's mother had driven her home and Simon had sighed over her black eye and her sheepish explanation for it Marcy lay awake in her bed listening to her beloved uncle snoring in his bedroom next door. She was going over the conversation with Ash in her head again and she wasn't sure what to think. So Marcy did what she always did when she didn't know who to talk to. She spoke to her best friend.

"Hambo, would you still love me if I liked girls?" Marcy whispered to the faded one eyed teddy bear propped up on the pillows next to her. She picked him up and made him nod. "You promise? Cause I dunno, I might like girls. Ash told me today he thinks he likes boys. But I think boys are really gross and he said he likes the way they smell. I really like the way girls smell and I'm scared I might be a little bit gay like Ash is. Promise you'll still love me?"

Hambo looked like he was smiling at her and Marcy hugged him tight. She wasn't sure, not yet. But it was nice that whatever happened her teddy was always there for her. Simon would be too, she knew. He'd told her that everything Hunson had taught her about the world was wrong and hateful, that Hunson was the one who was a monster. And then when she'd been a bit older he'd told her that Hunson had deliberately started the fire that had killed her Mum and brother. So she knew for certain that Simon was right and her father really was a monster.

Marceline drifted off to sleep listening to Simon's comforting snoring, arms wrapped tight around Hambo and safe in the knowledge that whatever she eventually figured out about herself Simon would always love her.

...

In an entirely different part of the city on an evening not so much later a girl Marcy didn't know yet was ringing a doorbell with shaking hands.

"Hullo Bonnie, come to play with Fionna?" Margaret asked cheerfully when she pulled the door open.

"Hello Mrs Madigan. Yeah, is she in?" Bonnie asked quietly. Margaret took a second to look over the girl from nextdoor when she heard the shaking in her voice. Bonnie had always been an unusually solemn little girl but that evening she sounded like there were repressed tears behind her words. And when Margaret looked closer she could see that the girl's eyes were rimmed in red like she'd done a lot of crying before she came over.

"Bonnibel, whatever's the matter, dear? Oh come in, we'll get you a cup of tea and I'll fetch Fionna. Is someone ill?" Margaret asked in concern as the girl followed her down the hall into their kitchen.

"My Dad's left." the girl mumbled, looking away and sniffing back a sob.

"Thomas left? You mean, for good? Oh your poor mother! Well come in dear; you're always welcome here. Josh? Joshua! Go fetch Fionna, Bonnibel's here to see her and she's upset!" Margaret shouted over her shoulder.

Joshua Madigan came stomping through from the lounge followed by Jake with the family's new tortoise shell kitten Pancake riding on his shoulder.

"Hey Bonnie, what's wrong?" Jake asked before his father even opened his mouth. Joshua took one look at them and shook his head then went to bawl for Fionna from the bottom of the stairs.

"My Dad was sleeping with his secretary and my Mum threw him out and he's gone to live with that other woman and now they're getting a divorce. Mum cut the arms off all his suits and threw her favourite crystal vase at him." Bonnie muttered, staring at the floor.

"Oh." Jake replied, scratching his head. "You wanna play with Cake? She's a real good listener."

He passed the kitten across to Bonnie, figuring that Cake was probably better than him at talking to upset girls.

"Hello, Cake." Bonnie said to the little purring ball of warm fur in her hands. Then she burst into tears again.

"Jake go and see what's keeping your sister, please." Margaret commanded him. "Oh come here little one, it's ok. It's going to be ok."

Bonnie let Fionna's mother wrap her in a hug and sniffled back her sobs, ashamed of herself.

"Hey."

They both looked up at Fionna's voice and Margaret scowled.

"What have you done to all your lovely hair, girl?" she demanded. Then a second later when Fionna just shrugged at her she sighed and shook her head. "We'll talk about it later. Take your friend out to the tree house and I'll bring you some cookies and tea."

Jake and Joshua trailed Fionna into the kitchen. Joshua looked like he'd already gone through three rounds of 'what have you done with your hair' and Jake looked like he wasn't at all surprised. Fionna slid the pair of kitchen scissors back across the table to her mother before taking hold of Bonnie's arm and towing her towards the back door.

"Why'd you cut all your hair off? You look like a boy." Bonnie mumbled as the door banged shut behind them.

"Cause sometimes I think I should have been a boy, boys have more fun. Besides I like it like this. I think it makes me look really grownup." Fionna replied happily. "Come on, Cake! Up to the tree house!"

She gently picked up the sleepy kitten from Bonnie's unresisting hands and transferred her onto one shoulder before clambering up the short ladder into the little tree house Joshua had built for her and Jake when they were much younger. Bonnie followed more slowly.

"You've been crying, lumpy. What's wrong?" Fionna asked once they were sitting cross legged together watching Cake sniffle around in the corners of the room. Bonnie stared down at the kitten for a long minute before she replied.

"My Dad's gone away and he's not coming home, he's gone to live with someone else. Mum said he's not welcome and she's gonna divorce him cause he had an affair with a woman he works with and she's kicked him out. She said to ask if I can stay here tonight. She took Neddy to stay with my great aunt but there isn't room for me there and I'd rather stay with you, if that's alright."

Fionna shuffled across the floor and hugged her best friend, not letting go even when Bonnie started crying again.

"H-he's been weird for ages and now he's gone and I don't wanna live in a broken home!" Bonnie sobbed against Fionna's shoulder. "I don't want a Step-Dad or a Step-Mum, I want my Dad to come home and not be an idiot!"

"I know. Dads are really stupid, my Dad's really mad I cut my hair." Fionna replied after a while. "But you're gonna be ok. You're really brilliant and you'll do fine without him, you don't need your stupid Dad if that's how he's gonna treat you and your Mum."

"But I love my Dad, I just hate him right now too." Bonnie replied tearfully.

"I know."

By the time Margaret came out carrying a tray of cookies and two mugs of tea for them Bonnie was reluctantly giggling again while Fionna showed her how Cake could do backflips in the pursuit of bits of string. Margaret sighed and shook her head again at Fionna's bad attempt at giving herself a crew-cut. They'd need to take her to the hair dresser in the morning to get it tidied up, or under the circumstances perhaps the barber would be more appropriate. Margaret didn't know what was going on in her daughter's head these days but ever since puberty had kicked in with a vengeance Fionna had been acting more and more tomboyish. Joshua had just shrugged when she'd tried to talk to him about it and said that probably Fionna was working out that she was gay. That was no surprise at least, Margaret had suspected as such since Fionna had started school.

"Mum, can Bonnie stay over tonight? Her Mum had to take Ned to her great aunt and there wasn't room for her." Fionna asked brightly when Margaret called for them to come down.

"Of course she can dear, I'll have your Dad put up the camp bed in your room." Margaret replied after only a second's indecision. After all they were only twelve years old, even if Margaret was increasingly certain that one day Bonnibel might turn out to be her daughter in law. The little redhead was unsettlingly smart and very kind; Fiona could certainly do a lot worse for a girlfriend. And it didn't appear that either of them realised yet that their close friendship showed a few early signs of developing into something else one day. Margaret was certain there was no harm in letting them sleep over in the same room for now.

"Thanks, Mrs Madigan." Bonnie said politely. Margaret just offered her a warm smile in return; Bonnie's mother didn't seem to be doing a terribly good job of looking after her right then and Margaret had a soft spot for children in need. Fionna had started out as their foster daughter when she was just a baby and when the court had ruled she should be adopted instead of going back to her neglectful biological father Margaret hadn't been able to even think of parting with her. As she watched her little girl climb down from the tree house with Cake curled up asleep in her sweater Margaret was overcome with a wave of love for her. She balanced the tray in one hand and pulled Fionna into an unexpected hug with the other.

"I'm not upset about your hair, dear. I just got a shock. Your father and I love you however you identify, alright?" she murmured into Fionna's ear.

"Um, right, thanks?" Fionna replied with a confused frown.

"Come on girls," Margaret added, letting Fionna go and smiling around at them both. "There's a picnic blanket for you down here and if you want later we'll all go for pizza, I didn't buy enough steaks in for a guest."

"You don't have to do that, Mrs Madigan." Bonnie mumbled politely. "I have a key, I can go and make myself some dinner at home."

Margaret just shook her head again; of course Bonnibel's mother was upset about her cheating runaway husband but she'd more or less abandoned her daughter. It was no surprise the poor little thing was so anxious all the time.

"Don't you even think of it, dear. You'll break poor Fionna's heart if you take away a perfectly good excuse to go for pizza. It's her favourite." Margaret replied with a wink. Fionna grinned.

After the whole family came home from getting excellent pizza at the little Italian restaurant around the corner the girls went back out to the tree house for a while before bed. Full of good food and feeling a lot calmer than she had earlier Bonnie rested her head on Fionna's shoulder and slid her arms around the other girl's neck.

"You're my absolute best friend in the world, lumpy." she told the blonde girl.

"Yep, cause I'm awesome!" Fionna replied with a grin.

"No, but really. You're the best." Bonnie pressed seriously. "I dunno what I'd do without a friend like you. You're like the Robin to my Batman."

"Pretty sure I'm Batman and you're Robin." Fionna giggled.

"You're Lumpman and I'm Lumpin." Bonnie replied with a grin. They both burst out into fresh giggles.

That night Fionna went to bed with a warm bubbly feeling in her chest. She lay awake for a long time staring at the ceiling and listening to her best friend breathing deeply in her sleep on the floor next to her. She'd meant what she said earlier; sometimes she thought she should have been a boy. Then Bonnie would be her girlfriend instead of her best friend and she could do awesome boy things with Jake and wear cool boy clothes. And then she could kiss girls and buy Bonnie flowers like the boys in movies did. That would be so awesome. She finally dropped off to sleep a little confused still but happy for reasons that would take her a few more years and a lot of soul searching to really work out. But Fionna was certain that as long as Lumpman had his Lumpin around they'd be ok, no matter what happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**How long has it been? Hella. But here you are, another missing scene. I found this half finished in my drafts folder, dusted it off and added the last bit.**

 **Are people still reading this? Cause I still have some stuff I wanna explore with these scenes. I hope you like it anyway, feel free to hit me up with a review if you enjoyed it. Seriously, if I know people like it I might write missing scenes a little quicker.**

 **Content Warning: awkwardness, outing, social anxiety, slight death threats, feels.**

* * *

"Happy birthday to me, today I'm sixteen! I can change my name legally, and disown my Dad completely!"

"Not before you eat some breakfast, darling. Come on, I made you pancakes."

"Simon, I don't eat pancakes. They've got egg and milk in and I won't eat cruelty products, they're mean to animals." Marceline whined. She rolled her whole head instead of just her eyes because he was so amazingly and unbelievably _lame_ that she couldn't just express it with an eye roll. Recently Simon had been doing that stupid thing where he pretended to forget she was vegan and 'accidentally' cooked her food with dairy and stuff in it, probably hoping she'd just give up caring about animal rights. But that morning he just grinned at her like he'd done something especially clever.

"Well I know that, smartypants. That's why I made you vegan pancakes. I used soy milk and vegetable oil to bind the mixture and they're risen using baking soda. They are completely cruelty-free birthday pancakes." he replied a little smugly.

"Oh! You're the best! Thank you!" Marcy squealed, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing his whiskery cheek happily.

"Well I'm not going to argue with you about that, I am pretty brilliant." Simon agreed as he followed his excited niece through to their lounge.

"Simon, how much did you buy?" Marcy breathed, eyes wide with delight as she took in the stack of presents waiting quietly next to the plate of pancakes on the table.

"Food first, darling. Then you can have your presents." he replied cheerfully, taking the seat opposite and clumsily loading his own plate from the pancake stack.

Marcy wolfed down a couple of pancakes at breakneck speed, almost choking at one point until her uncle leaned across and handed her a glass of juice to wash her food down with. She smiled sheepishly at him but didn't slow down, almost too excited to sit still. Finally when she'd swallowed her last half chewed bite and rushed her plate and glass through to the kitchen Simon nodded his approval and Marceline dug into the pile of presents, ripping the paper off the first one she came to joyfully.

"Awesome! Thanks!" she yelled, holding up a long string of multi-coloured fairy lights shaped like tiny stars.

"I thought you might want to hang them above your bed." Simon told her with a smile. Marcy grinned up at him but she'd already moved onto the next present.

"Oh, cool!"

"Those are real sapphires, darling. I know you're all about the environment and human rights so I got one with a conflict-free certificate. The miners and jewellers who worked on it all received a fair wage and humane working conditions, the lady in the shop said so."

She carefully hung the little silver bat pendant around her neck, taking a moment to examine how the tiny sapphire eyes glittered in the low winter sun.

"It's beautiful." she told him happily.

"Two down, one to go." Simon nodded to the last package, the large box wrapped in shiny green paper.

"What is it?" Marcy asked in confusion when she unwrapped it. She stared down at the picture on the box but it didn't reveal its secrets to her.

"It's an amplifier effect pedal! You step on this when you're playing your bass guitar and it switches you between different sounds that you can pre-programme. Professional musicians use them." Simon told her with his eyes sparkling.

"But I don't have a bass guitar." Marceline mumbled, embarrassed. "I've got a regular guitar but this is for a bass, it's not gonna work right."

"Oh. That is a real shame. I know you were talking about a bass, I must have forgotten you didn't already have one. I'm getting so forgetful recently. Must be my age. Well, I guess we've got two options then. I guess we can take it back to the shop and change it or get a refund or something. Or, you can have a look behind the door and see what's hidden there." he replied in a calm voice.

"No, Simon, you didn't!"

She was already up and across the room, pulling the lounge door away from the wall and gasping in surprise at the shiny bright red bass guitar leaning up against the wall with a bow tied around the neck and a tag with her name on it.

"Oh, I did. I thought, 'what would my sunbeam like best in the whole world?' and I couldn't fit a whole unicorn in here so I got you the next best thing instead. Hey, take a look at the back of the bass, darling." Simon added, unable to keep the huge grin off his face.

She picked the instrument up reverently, hands almost trembling with happiness, and turned it around. There was a yellow birthday card envelope tacked loosely to the back, she pulled it free and took it over to the sofa to open.

Inside was a card with a picture of a frolicking unicorn on it, one of their private jokes since she was small because she always asked for a pet unicorn every Christmas and Simon always told her he'd love one but he was allergic. When she opened the card she sucked in a surprised breath.

"I should turn sixteen every year. Concert tickets, too?"

"To see one of your favourite bands. The Really Hot Chilli Peppers!"

" _Red_ Hot Chilli Peppers, Simon." Marcy giggled. "You're so _old_. But there are two tickets here, are you coming with me?"

"I thought you might want to ask one of your school friends? Maybe Ash or someone. You don't want you ancient embarrassing uncle coming with you, do you?" he asked sceptically.

"I'd love it if you came with me! You're cooler than any of my friends. You saw The Who live in the seventies, you're officially Really Cool." Marcy told him seriously. She stood and came back across to the breakfast table, wrapping him in a tight, happy hug. "Thank you so much for all the lovely birthday gifts! Can we try the bass now?"

"Not just yet, darling. You're due at the court in an hour to present your name-change documents. And after that I'm taking you shopping."

"But what about school?" Marcy asked, confused.

"Pft, school! As if they can teach you anything you don't already know. No, school are already aware that you've come down with a nasty bout of flu and won't be in for the rest of the week. I thought you might like to have a walk around Camden Market and get some cool clothes instead." he replied.

"But you already got me so much stuff!"

"Well it isn't every day your little girl turns sixteen, is it?"

Simon dutifully ignored the crumpled birthday card that was folded into his pocket from the prison; he'd expected it and gotten up extra early for it. Like always letters from Hunson filled him with fury. But Marceline was grinning at him like he was the best parent who ever lived and it was easy to ignore the anger when he saw how happy she was.

"Come on then Miss Petrikova, go get dressed and we'll make your chosen name legal."

...

Bonnie couldn't remember ever being in a more tense room. She stirred her tea for lack of anything better to do but there was only so long she could pretend the sugar hadn't dissolved yet. After that they sat in silence, both staring at their hands. The other woman's name was Jessica and that was mostly all Bonnie knew about her, except that she hated her on a soul-deep level.

"Well, this is nice." the older woman tried after the silence stretched to breaking point. "Just us girls. I have a feeling we're going to be best friends, Bonnibel."

Bonnie sipped her tea and surveyed the woman coldly. Normally she'd be dying of anxiety at meeting someone new. Not today. Today she was too full of instinctive glacial fury to feel her usual fear.

"It's just Bonnie. And I already have a best friend. Her name is Fionna and we're gonna get married and travel the world together in a campervan. Thanks but I already have it planned how I'm gonna ask her and everything so don't waste your time."

"But you can't marry a girl just because she's your friend. People will think you're some kind of lesbian!" Jessica replied, horrified.

"Yes, I certainly wouldn't want anyone to get the right impression about me or anything."

And that was how Bonnie came out to her father's new fiancée.

"I'm not sure I understand." Jessica frowned around her teacup.

"It's very simple. People will think I'm a lesbian because I am one. I fancy girls. I'm a homosexual. A _gay_ homosexual." Bonnie replied awkwardly.

"Oh. Well. How, um, nice for you."

The conversation lapsed again and it was a little weird because it was the first time Bonnie could remember being completely certain that the person she was talking to was more uncomfortable than she was. It was a good feeling, powerful. This must be how normal people felt when they talk to her, she supposed.

"So this is usually where you'd ask me if I had a boyfriend. Obviously I don't. But you do. So let me just say, my Dad isn't a good guy, he's a cheating asshole and he broke my Mum's heart. But he's still my Dad and I still love him. So if you hurt him at all I'll be very angry, and I'm still too young to be legally held responsible for my actions. So I could literally get away with murder if I wanted. Just letting you know." Bonnie added, a touch vindictively.

Jessica blanched and she stared at the girl, shock written all over her face.

"There are my two favourite girls! Getting along like a house on fire, talking about make up and boys I bet."

Bonnie looked up at her father's voice and he grinned down at her, weaving his way between the tables of the café they'd agreed to meet in. He hadn't mentioned that he'd be late but that the women he'd left her mother for would be there instead. And like usual Bonnie was suffering a confusing mix of affection for the father who'd pushed her on the swings when she was little and anger that he never realised how badly his actions hurt. And she'd never be able to tell him because it wasn't something they ever spoke about. He'd never apologised for anything, ever. Not once in the whole fifteen years of her life. And Bonnie was sick of it. She didn't want his stupid new girlfriend to know things about her that she hadn't found the bravery to tell him herself, didn't want him to think she'd confided in Jessica out of feminine solidarity or because she actually liked the woman. Abruptly teenage anger and recklessness overcame social anxiety.

"Actually Dad," she blurted out loudly, "we're talking about how I'm gay and I fancy my best friend Fionna. You remember, the blonde girl from next door when you still lived with Mum, before you cheated and left her?"

He dropped into the chair next to her and the grin slid from his face.

"Well. That's one way to drop a bombshell. Your mother knew since you were small, she was absolutely certain of it." he said. And how could he just casually talk about her Mum like that, like he hadn't betrayed the whole family in the worst possible way? But all Bonnie's bravery had fled her the moment the words were out of her mouth so she just nodded weakly and stared down at her teacup.

"I've known since I was small." she muttered eventually. "I just didn't know there was anything unusual about it, didn't know there was a name for it until I was older. Then it took a while for me to be sure I was comfortable with that label, that I wasn't limiting myself. But I don't think it's a phase or anything. I really do just fancy girls and not boys. I just wanted to tell you."

"Honey, you're my daughter and I love you no matter what. I'm just happy you're happy." her father replied gently.

It might have been comforting under any other circumstances but all Bonnie could think was that if he loved her so much he never would have run away from their family. He was really good at loving her when it didn't require him to do anything except tell her empty words but the minute he needed to step up and be a real father to his children he buckled under the pressure. Bonnie knew her Mum wasn't perfect, she could be every bit as self-absorbed as her father sometimes. But if her children needed her she'd have walked barefoot across broken glass for them, Bonnie had never felt insecure in her mother's love for her. Her father had only been to see Neddy a couple of times since he'd left and even then he hadn't stayed long; Bonnie knew he was ashamed of his poor autistic son. During the worst of their arguments before he'd finally left she'd heard him accuse her mother of having an affair, heard him question whether Neddy was even his son because nobody on his side of the family was abnormal like that. And Bonnie would have run down from where she'd been sitting at the top of the stairs listening to them and hit him herself if she hasn't heard the fleshy slap of her mother's palm across his face. Maybe that's where her course in adult life began, because she was interested in how things like autism appeared in a family with no history of it, how the underlying code for people worked. She'd learn later when she studied psychology at college that her father had most likely been projecting his guilt because he was having an affair himself. That revelation did nothing to improve her opinion of him when she finally worked it out. But for that moment she was still just fifteen, still sitting staring awkwardly into her teacup while her father threw his empty love and hollow words at her.

...

Even after eighteen months of it happening every time anyone called her 'Miss Petrikova' Marceline beamed with pride. Except for that morning. That morning she was numb, staring at the grim faced doctor and struggling to process what he was telling her.

"But he's only fifty seven." she said again, as though stating her uncle's age would make his diagnosis any different.

"I'm afraid early onset dementia is relatively common amongst men with a background in boxing. Even a minor traumatic head injury could increase his chances of an earlier diagnosis. Sometimes it can be affected by substance abuse or genetic factors, do you know if your uncle had any history of drug taking?"

She shook her head. Simon would rather have cut his own hand off than take drugs, at least for as long as she'd known him.

"But, how fast is it gonna get worse? Is he gonna remember me?" Marcy asked in a small voice. The doctor fixed her with an expression even more sombre.

"It's hard to say. His symptoms have come on very suddenly, based on that alone I would speculate that the progression of his disease is most likely to be rapid. I'm afraid he might get a lot worse quite quickly."

"I'm supposed to go to Cambridge in September." she murmured, still numb with shock. "I'm going to study archaeology. I've got my A Levels next month and then I'm going to university, like Simon did."

"I would suggest that you begin looking into a private care facility for your uncle then, as it's unlikely he'll cope being alone at home. He already has limited mobility in his hands. Miss Petrikova, I'm going to make a referral to social services for you so that we can arrange carers to help look after your uncle." the doctor told her.

He probably meant well, she thought. But Simon was family and family looked after each other. No way was she letting some stranger come into their home and start messing around with their stuff. They wouldn't know how Simon took his tea or where to buy his favourite cheesecake. They wouldn't know where he kept his records or which channel the cricket was on. In her mind's eye Marceline was thinking back to being seven years old again. She'd come out of hospital mute from her burns, too scared to sleep alone, still taking a huge amount of pain killers that really didn't do much more than take the edge off the very worst of her agony. And Simon had been in pain too, he'd taken leave from work and he'd helped her set up her bedroom and he'd been there to hold her hand every single time she'd needed him. There was no way in hell Marceline was abandoning Simon when he needed her most.

"That won't be necessary. We'll make our own arrangements. Thank you, Doctor." she murmured politely, before standing and leaving his office without another word.

On the underground going home Marceline stared around at all the other commuters. There was a group of girls about her own age at the far end; for a few moments she burned with jealousy to be a normal girl like one of them. They didn't have visible scars that people stared at and they probably didn't have to live with their crazy uncle because their father murdered their family. She's have given anything to be like them, innocent and stupid and with no idea how fragile their entire world was. But then it occurred to Marceline that she knew nothing about them and she had no idea if they were dealing with things that made them want to scream with disappointment and frustration too, if they felt trapped in their own lives. She sighed and looked down at her shoes again for the rest of the journey then trudged wearily back along the street to the apartment when she reached her stop.

"Marcy?" Simon called when he heard the front door close.

"Yeah, I'm back." she replied.

"What did the doctor say? Did they get my tests back?"

Marceline couldn't remember ever having to do anything harder than sit down on the sofa next to her beloved uncle and tell him his diagnosis.

"I'm going to get sicker and sicker." he said quietly.

"But I'll be here for you." Marcy told him firmly. "I'm not leaving, Simon. Not for anything."

"But what about Cambridge?"

She paused, swallowed back her tears and prepared herself to tell the first lie she'd ever uttered to her uncle in all the years they'd lived together.

"I got rejected from them anyway, they didn't want me. The letter came through this morning. So we'll see. I might try again sometime. But I don't wanna go to uni right now, I wanna stay here with you."

"Oh Marcy, I'm so sorry. I'll help you reapply next year." Simon promised, squeezing her hand comfortingly.

"Thanks, Simon. I'm just gonna step out for a few minutes, is that ok?" she asked him carefully. She wasn't going to cry in front of him, Simon didn't need to have to see her grieve over it right now.

"Of course, sunbeam. You be back soon though and we'll have lunch together."

That was a lie, Marcy knew. Simon forgot to eat if she didn't make food for him so lunch would happen whenever she came home and cooked. She went to her room and got the letter that had arrived that morning, the one they'd both been so excited about that Simon had already forgotten. And then she went upstairs, up to the roof of their building. It was deserted which was lucky because she really didn't want anyone to see or ask her any questions about it. The object she'd stopped to buy on the way home felt heavy in her pocket; she pulled it out and examined it. Had her father started the fire with a cheap plastic lighter like this one? Or had he had more class even when he was consumed by murderous rage? He'd probably used an engraved metal refillable one, he always did think he was the final world on style. But this would have to do. For a moment Marceline flicked it to life and stared at the steady flame. She wasn't even afraid anymore, she was still too numb. She lifted the letter and read it one last time.

 _Dear Miss Petrikova,_

 _It is with the greatest pleasure that we offer you admission to Trinity College, Cambridge University to read BA (Hons) Archaeology starting 19_ _th_ _September. On behalf of the Chancellor and Dean of the university we welcome you to our campus community. We are extremely proud of the calibre of students who apply to Cambridge University and are equally proud of the educational, cultural and extracurricular opportunities we provide to those who enrol._

She couldn't read any more because the flames engulfed the letter and it dropped from her hand. Marcy let out a quiet sob as she watched her future go up in flames exactly like her past had. It seemed fitting, she figured. Best burn it and it could be ashes like everything else in her life.

That afternoon's brief rain storm reduced the remains of the letter to no more than a black smudge on the roof of their apartment building. Marceline excused her red eyes to Simon when he asked by telling him her allergies were bothering her, not that she was allergic to anything. But he'd forgotten by the time she'd finished fixing him a mug of tea and a plate of sandwiches. They watched some cricket together and Marcy took her uncle out for a walk to his favourite bakery to buy the cheesecake he liked. He told her all about his adventures with the university he used to work for and all the places he'd been, about the boxing matches he'd won and lost in his youth. She hated those stories in particular but Simon chattered about them happily enough so Marceline just nodded and listened.

There was a new man working in the bakery, he was heavily tattooed and Simon didn't seem to like him very much. But Marcy's eye was caught by a long tearing scar running down the length of his forearm half hidden by an exquisitely inked fantasy sword wreathed in flames. It was only partly covered, obviously he was having the cover up finished over several sessions. Marceline tucked that bit of information away to examine when she felt less like the world was falling apart around her. She ran her thumb carefully over the twisted, fragile skin on the left side of her throat as she hitched her bag higher when they left the bakery together.

That night instead of lying in bed crying over the university career she now knew she could never have Marceline got out her old sketch pad. It had been a lot of years since her half-assed interest in drawing but she was still passably artistic, for all she hadn't practiced in forever. She started to draw, just things from her childhood at first like Hambo or the dolls' house she'd had in her old bedroom. And then she moved on to sketching the wolf from the poster on Marshall's bedroom door and her mother's favourite roses and sunflowers. Slowly a plan formed in her mind. It was another six months until her birthday, until she was legally eighteen and didn't need any parental permission to make body modifications. That gave her time to work out a design, research different tattoo artists and nerve herself up for what would most likely be the second most agonizing experience of her life so far. But at least it would be worth it, in the long run. The man in the bakery had a nasty scar and it was almost invisible underneath the carefully designed sword. And tattoos were very punk. If Marceline couldn't be an archaeologist like Simon then she'd fall back on her first love, music. When she finally lay down to sleep she was exhausted but resolved. She had some sketches of tattoo designs and tomorrow she'd advertise in the local music shop as a bassist, see if any bands needed someone. It didn't completely fill the raw hole in her heart where her dreams of following Simon into academia had been ripped out but it was enough to ease her into a mercifully dreamless sleep.


End file.
